#cw: Omegaverse

[gomzdrawfr]

cw: omegaverse, mpreg, male pregnancy, pregancy

alright alright who got the omega Captain knocked up again come on guys we've talked about this

pose ref (the person posing is on another account mentioned but it's a nsfw account sO WATCH OUT FOR PP)

[txjis]

alpha!toji x omega!fem!reader (reader is a late bloomer)

COLLAB FOR; @goxjo ‘s - Into The Omegaverse

cw: A/B/O , first heat , unprotected sex , p in v , knotting , mating , biting , some blood , not much plot , i thinks that’s it.

wc: 2k

notes: a wittle rushed, wanted to make sure i got it in on time skfkfsk. my first collab hurray!! pls ignore spelling errors i am stoopid.

it wasn’t common for heats to start late, especially well into your 20’s. but it wasn’t anything to worry about too much either. you remembered being jealous of the other omegas you knew when their first heat hit. wanting to ‘fit in’ and relate to them, but now, you were eating all those previous feeling. this shit was hell. 

your body is on fire, the heat that you’d had been trying to fight off instead made you restless and desperate for relief. it's been building for days now, and you know you need to find release soon or risk going mad, the stress wasn’t good for any omega. let alone a sweet, innocent lil thing like you. 

you hear a knock on your door, and you know it's toji. his scent is like no other alpha you’ve ever been around. it’s a deep musk, with faint hints of sandalwood. his scent alone, through your door even, is enough to have you gasping for air. your body physically reacting to the way he smells. 

you open the door and there he stands, tall and muscular, his black hair falling loosely around his sharp features. he raises an eyebrow at the sight of you, dressed only in a thin shirt that clings to your sweaty body, your nipples hard and straining against the fabric. 

"well, little omega, you're looking ripe," he says, his voice deep and full of promise. "could smell ya’ from a mile away." he’s staring down at you, his own body reacting to just how sweet you smell. he had been attempting to court you for a while now, you always smelled so good to him. but this? he was intoxicated. 

you shiver at his words, your pussy clenching as a wave of desire washes over you. every rational thought flying from your head the moment his scent wafted towards your overly sensitive, twitchy nose. it was stronger than when your door was shut, almost knocking you back on your ass. 

"please, toji," you beg, your voice hoarse and needy, not knowing what you were even pleading for. "it’s t’much. hurts." a slow, dangerous smile spreads across his face, and he steps towards you, taking your face in his hand, his touch firm and demanding. 

"gonna take care of you, doll," he growls, his thumb brushing your cheek. "but y’gotta do as I say and give yourself to me completely.” you whimper, nodding eagerly, already lost in the haze of your need and his commanding presence.

without warning, he presses his lips to yours, kissing you hard, his tongue demanding entry to your mouth. you moan into the kiss, your hands clutching at his shirt as he backs you into the room, kicking the door shut behind him. he breaks the kiss, his green eyes burning with desire as he looks down at you.

 "get rid of em’," he commands, speaking about your clothes. he snaps the waistband of your flimsy pajama shorts to further prove his point. his voice, rough with want. "wanna see what i got t’work with."

you quickly strip, your hands shaking as you reveal your bare body to him, your breasts heaving as you pant with anticipation. toji growls low in his throat, lust flashing in his eyes. 

"such a pretty lil’ thing," he says, reaching out to cup your breast, squeezing it roughly. You whimper out at his touch, your knees buckling as pleasure spikes through you.

 "more.. please.." you plead, your hands clinging to his broad shoulders. with a rough laugh, he pushes you back onto the bed, following you down, his weight pressing you into the mattress. he pulls away slightly, taking in the sight of you spread out before him, your legs falling open easily. 

"such a needy omega," he teases, reaching down to stroke your inner thigh. "lil’ pussy already s’wet for me hm?" you blush, feeling your face heat up even as your core burns with need. 

"all f’you toji.." you whisper, lifting your hips up towards his hand, seeking more contact. he chuckles, tracing the outline of your sex with his finger, teasing you mercilessly. 

"greedy little thing, aren't you?" he murmurs, dipping his finger into your slick folds, collecting your essence on his finger. he raises his hand to his mouth, sucking your juices off with a lewd noise. "fuck.." he growls, licking his lips. "..i could feast on you all day."

you squirm beneath him, your body arching off the bed, desperate for friction. "touch me," you beg, your hands now tugging at his clothing. "need you so bad." a dark, satisfied smile stretches across his face, and he sits up, quickly shedding his clothes, revealing his hard, muscular body and thick cock, straining towards you. 

"bossy too," he laughs, positioning himself at your entrance. he wanted to take his time with you, open you up for him. there would be other times for that though, the slick pouring from your pussy was driving him insane. he was just as impatient as you were. 

with a hand pressed against the pillows your head was resting on, he uses his other to grip the base of his cock. sliding the tip through your drenched folds, basking in the slick sounds that started filling the room mixed with your small puffs of air and high pitched whimpers. finally, he began to push in slowly.  

you cry out, your body trembling as you adjust to his size. he was huge, and thick too. your eyes glanced down to where he was splitting you open, widening realization just how stretched your cunt looked taking just half of him. toji groans, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. 

"so tight, so fucking perfect," he grits out, beginning to move, he fucked you with half of his cock for a while, you were squeezing him too tight for him to push anymore into you. the hand that was once on his cock moved to splay across your lower tummy, hands large enough that his thumb could press against your clit at the same time. 

the small amount of pressure was enough to throw you over the edge unexpectedly. a violent orgasm ripped through your body, slick coating his cock while clear fluid sprayed, splashing against his torso and back on to you. it was messy, so fucking messy. but you couldn’t find the time to be embarrassed when it ripped an animalistic growl from toji. 

“oh.. you fuckin’ dirty girl.” your back arched off the bed while your mouth dropped into a silent scream. with one sharp thrust he buried the rest of his cock into you. “cumming all over me, making a mess.” it was mean, he knew it was mean. your poor cunt already battered from just half of him, but the way you squeezed down on him while you came— he needed to feel it again. this time around his full cock. 

you start to meet his thrusts, your body moving in perfect rhythm with his, the bed rocking with the force of your joining. toji leans down, capturing your mouth in a hungry kiss, his tongue dueling with yours as his hands grip your hips, pulling you onto his cock again and again.

the room fills with the wet sounds of your coupling, your moans and cries echoing off the walls as toji fucks you relentlessly. You can feel your orgasm building again, your body coiling tighter and tighter with pleasure.

"m’close," you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders. "gonna cum-" this time you were able to at least feel the orgasm building up in you. you gaze up at him, eyes glazed over with lust and teary. 

"not yet doll, almost there.." he grunts, his hips are moving sloppier now. you can feel the swell of his knot every time his hips slap against the back of your thighs. you were squeezing down on him tightly, trying to hold back the orgasm that was threatening to rip through you. 

“knot.. knot. please toji, knot.” you were chanting, begging, pleading, all of it. he almost blew his load just hearing you beg for his knot. he looked down between your bodies, a dull pang of uncertainty pressed at his chest. he was, large. he had came to terms that most omegas wouldn’t be able to actually take his knot.. but you were begging so prettily, how could he deprive you? 

“it’s gonna hurt doll..” toji wheezes out, hissing when you squeeze down on him tighter. he looks back up towards your face, which was now messy with tears and drool. another smile pulls at his lips, the scar stretching along with it. he’d give you anything, everything. 

you start to whine and try to push your hips on to him, attempting to push his knot in you for him. toji’s eyes rolled into the back of his head watching you try to fuck him back. 

“fuck fuck fuck, cum for me. milk my cock doll, give it to me.” toji growled, falling to his elbows above you. your chest pressed against his, skin on skin sending your core trembling around him. 

his words send you over the edge, and you cry out as your orgasm crashes over you, your body shaking as waves of pleasure ripple through you.

toji groans, his hips stuttering as he continues to thrust, his own release building.

 "good fuckin’ girl.." he groans, his eyes fixed on where your bodies are joined as he watches his length disappear into your depths, fat knot slowly starting to stretch you further. "can't hold out much longer..."

you whimper, still sensitive from your climax, as he pounds into you, his balls slapping against your ass. you felt the sharp pain of him finally pressing his know into you, your eyes widened and teeth latched to your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. 

“i know baby, i know…” toji coos, leaning forward towards your face. his hot tongue laps at the blood that was dotting across your bottom lip. he ground his hips into you, allowing himself friction without needing to pull out at all. 

“mark.. toji.” you wheezed, weak fingers tangling into the hair that fell along his neck. you tugged him towards your neck, glistening with sweat. animalistic instincts took over him completely, a low growl rattled through his chest and against yours. 

“gonna make you mine, fuck.” toji hisses, sharp canines dragging across the delicate skin of your throat. you pushing your neck into his mouth, piercing yourself on his sharp teeth was enough to finally send him over. 

with a roar, his hips still, his cock pulsing and knot swelling even further as he fills you, his hot cum shooting deep inside you. the teeth against your neck bite down, both of your eyes roll back at the warmth that floods you both from being marked, and doing the marking. 

toji collapses on top of you, breathing heavily, his face still buried in your neck. he laps at the deep bite with his tongue, licking away the blood that dribbled from it. 

he kept you plugged with his cock, lifting himself up with strong arm to hover over you once again. a forearm slipped behind your neck, pretty much cradling your head. he was able to keep himself balanced like that while his other hand pressed softly against the back of your head. 

“c’mon doll, need you to do it too.” he moved your head towards his exposed neck. toji tilted his head out of the way, chuckling when he felt your own, much smaller, canines pierce his skin. another growl, that sounded more like a purr, vibrated against your lips while you lapped and sucked at his wound the same way he did yours. 

you two laid there, for hours, falling asleep with him still inside of you. the pattern of waking up to him rutting into you, fucking, and falling back asleep happened for a few days afterwards. he claimed it as ‘wanting to make sure’ he was taking care of you. 

[rush-the-stars]

AFFECTION'S EDGE: PART I

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|| alpha!suguru getou x omega!afab reader || E/18+ || wc: 6.5k || ao3 || Part II -> coming soon! || masterlist ||

minors and ageless blogs do not interact, 18+ only

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“You’ve got it all wrong,” he murmurs, “but what am I to expect from a stray like you? You’ve lived off scraps and abuse your whole life; of course you don’t know what to do now that I’ve given you food and shelter.” Suguru’s fingers ease up towards your neck as he continues, “a warm bed to lie in. Toys to play with. A collar—so you’ll never be lost again. No one’s ever given you this before, hm?”

***

Suguru tries to tame you.

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✧ SPRING FEVER collab masterlist ✧

cw: omegaverse, brat taming, mind games, toxic behavior, yandere suguru getou, yandere reader if you squint, biting, blood, marking, eventual forced bathing in later parts, eventual forced feeding in later parts, eventual smut in later parts; masturbation, voyeurism, a blurring of boundaries, consent as punishment?

a/n: this is for @lorelune 's SPRING FEVER collab!! i have been working on this for awhile now and i am excited to share it! this should be about 3 parts...i am very close to finishing the whole thing so i should be releasing a part a week for the next two weeks!

thank you for reading!! i would love to hear your thoughts <333

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“I think you’d be perfect.” 

Suguru’s voice is a caress, low and soft, as he sits across from you. 

Somehow, he always makes you feel like he is just beneath the surface of your skin, even if there is a respectable distance between you. He always makes you feel as if he is lurking somewhere in the lowest parts of you, pulling at strings you once thought hidden to yourself. 

You’ve kept your distance for this reason.

You swallow hard. 

And then you manage to get your voice to unstick, to find it somewhere inside of you and bring it to life. It’s firmer than you’re anticipating and you’re proud;

“I don’t think I would be.” 

Suguru looks at you in a way that makes you feel as if he’s seeing through you, pulling you open slowly to gaze at all the inner workings of you. His dark eyes are keen, so sharp, even if they’re shaded by half-lidded lashes. 

He smiles pleasantly and indulges you, but you know he believes very firmly that he is, in fact, right, “why not?” 

“I told you when I agreed to join you—all I wanted in exchange for helping you, was to be an unbound Omega.” You force yourself to meet his eyes and to not get sucked into the dark tide of them. 

“You asked for my protection.” He reminds you. 

Your eyes flash this time, heated, a little spark that skitters to life inside of you.

“I didn’t—“ 

“Is that not what you’d call it?” Suguru asks, “when I interfered, every time, to be sure no other Alpha got to you? Or when I scented you to keep them away?”

Prickling warmth dots your cheeks, can feel at the back of your neck, too, the tips of your ears. You try a different tactic. 

“I’m not a homemaker.” 

His smile is soft, “I don’t want a homemaker.” 

“I’m not obedient.” You counter again, as if you could dissuade Suguru Getou once he’s made up his mind.

“You’ve been quite good for me.” Suguru says smugly and this time, a little noise of embarrassment or frustration eeks out of you. A short, sharp little growl from your throat, almost a groan of irritation.  

“I—I’m doing your dirty work. That’s our agreement! You give me assignments that I complete and in return, I get my freedom.” 

“I don’t know why you’re so opposed to this. Is it not similar already to what we have now?” He asks simply, “I’d still let you roam, if that’s what you’re so scared of.” 

“No it’s that—that power and mentality that I don’t want you to have over me.” You snap. 

“I already have it,” he says and it isn’t intended to be cruel, but certainly is, “how long do you think you’d last, without the protection of an Alpha?” 

“I didn’t have any before you.” 

“You were starving, injured, and constantly on the run before me.” You open your mouth to protest, but he cuts you off, “it would still give you what you want.” 

“I don’t want to be yours.” You say frankly, perhaps to be cruel yourself. And then you show teeth a little, flash them in warning, “I don’t want your mark.”

Suguru looks amused, if anything, by your display. 

His smile is knowing and insufferable. It makes your anger ratchet up inside of you, hackles rising. You feel a little growl working its way out of your throat. It tears out of you in annoyance, when he says, “I don’t believe you.” 

You slam the door so hard on its hinges that it rattles the entire wall. You wish it would rattle all the world. 

***

Your cursed technique rips to life like a star exploding outwards. 

Beast that you are, it overtakes you, transforms you until you are all claws and dripping, little fangs. Your body elongates, elegant, and built for speed, viciousness. The horns atop your head are sharp, too, curled the slightest into a crescent shape. The beast in you stretches and pulls at your bones, fits your skin to it in a way that you have come to know well. 

(“Cursed technique: Cursed Creature,” Suguru hums, “allows you to turn into a cursed version of yourself, a sort of,” he pauses, looking you over, “monster?” 

“That’s right.” You tell him, body trembling all over, in dire need of food. Care. Sleep. 

He places a large hand on top of your head, strokes gently, until his hand nudges your cheek, beneath your chin so you are forced to look up into his eyes. Depthless violet. 

“You have a deal.”)

The sorcerer is cast backward with the force of your transformation. In this form, everything heightens, sharpening into brilliance. So much brighter, clearer. So much more overwhelming. 

You are a flash of darkness when you move, a mass of lethality. 

The sorcerer doesn’t stand a chance, the moment you dash past him with a deep swipe of your claws, you know this will be an easy match. You chitter in this form, excited, warbly little sound erupting from you before you careen towards him again. 

This time, he is warped away. 

But you are fast, changing your trajectory mid-step to catch up to where he was warped. 

Except, this time, a white haired sorcerer takes his place. 

Your claws meet air. 

A growling hiss erupts from your throat. 

Satoru Gojo. 

Suguru told you to stay away from him. At all costs.

And speak of the devil, your name is called, whistled almost. Your head turns to find Suguru appearing, too. 

Faintly, the more human part of you wonders what the occasion is. 

For a moment, all you can see is threat. Your hackles rise as your growling gets lower, more sinister, your form moving behind Gojo as if you might circle him, unable to let down your guard. 

“Call off your pet,” Gojo says. 

Suguru calls your name again and there’s something else in his tone now, a little sharper. 

(Fear, you wonder faintly, in some far away part of your mind. Is he worried Gojo would hurt you?)

You come to heel at Suguru’s side, remaining in this form, making a low, threatening sound still. Warning. Your claws still drip with the blood of that sorcerer. 

“Go,” Suguru says to you. 

Your head snaps to look at him, eyes narrowing. “I’m not leaving,” you snap and the words have a bite to it, around the curves of your fangs. You look back at Gojo. If this comes to blows, you don’t want Suguru facing Gojo alone–you don’t want to leave his back suddenly unguarded. 

It’s counterintuitive to you, goes against all of your instincts. You don’t leave him, you don’t leave his side, his back. 

“Go,” Suguru says, harsher this time and the command seeps into you. You waver. And then, “I won’t tell you again.” 

When you hiss at him in that warbling way of curses, he smiles faintly, almost fondly, as your teeth drip with venom. But you do listen to him this time.

And with your heightened hearing, you hear Gojo underneath his breath as you slink away;

“How interesting.” 

***

When Suguru returns to you, he is unharmed. 

You’d paced the length of the hallway outside of his room in the compound until you could have worn a hole into it. 

Few would be brave enough to wait for Suguru outside his door. 

When he arrives, he is mildly surprised to see you, before his expression melts into a sort of—smugness. A knowing glint to his eyes. 

“Why would you send me away?” You snap.

“You could’ve gone in, you know, if it would’ve soothed you.” Suguru says instead, head nodding towards the door to his suite. “Would you like a key?” 

You blanche, taking a half step back, “I don’t—“

It allows him to get to his door and open it. You’ve been here before, in the privacy of his suite, but now it feels strange. A little different. He holds the door open for you. 

You glance at the threshold and feel as if you’re making an important decision. 

“Come on,” he says smoothly and before you can think twice about it, you are being led inside, his hand drifting somewhere near your lower back. He never touches you, the feeling is a phantom one, the impression of it. You shiver a little. 

But you round on him again, “why would you send me away?”

He doesn’t acknowledge you, instead he goes rifling in a drawer, digging around a little. 

His suite is larger than others. The living room is open and attached is the kitchen. It’s all light wood, with tall windows that overlook the courtyard. You know, despite never being inside, that his bedroom is down the hall and to the left. The bathroom is across from it. You’ve sat many times on the floor of his living room with him, going over assignments, plans that he has, and what he’d like you to do. 

When he finds what he’s looking for, he makes a soft noise, before turning to you with a small, gold key. 

“I don’t want a key!” You snap. 

“It’s a spare, take it just in case.” He replies and when you don’t move to grab it from him, he takes your hand in his much larger one, and opens your palm to him. 

He places the key in your hand. 

And then his eyes catch yours, “you were worried.” 

“No-!” you get out, “I don’t like being—I’m supposed to protect you.” 

Suguru smiles, hand still swallowing yours, “isn’t that sweet?” he remarks, “an Omega attempting to protect an Alpha.”

Immediately, you jerk away from him.

The key is still in your shaking fist. 

“Don’t start,” you snarl, low and vicious and hurt, “I’ve always been the one at your side.” 

“Yes,” he agrees, hand falling back down to his side listlessly. “I already told you that.” 

You’ve always been at my side, he’d said, when he was trying to convince you to–

“That’s not what I meant!” Your voice rises without your consent and you feel an embarrassed, angry flush through your face for being so worked up. The room is thick with your worry and anger and frustration, all of your pent up energy like a knot in your chest, in your voice. It’s in your heart and the way you look at him. 

“It doesn’t matter what you meant,” Suguru says easily, “it’s still the truth.” 

When you slam the door this time, you hear something fall from the wall. 

But the key is still in your trembling hand, digging indents into your palm, and your heart is still a beast in your chest.

And behind the closed door, Suguru Getou smiles fondly, and retrieves the fallen, shattered frame from the floor. 

***

For a while, you avoid Suguru. 

You stuff the key he gave you in your nightstand drawer, far in the back, in an attempt to keep it out of sight and out of your mind. 

And at first, you think he is respecting your boundaries; you receive assignments through others from him. You see him only in passing and he never speaks directly to you. He hardly acknowledges you. 

But after a week and a half, it begins to feel like punishment. 

And the key is starting to burn and itch in your mind. You think about it at night, tossing over in your bed; you think about unlocking his door at this hour. What would you find? Would he be asleep? Awake? Alone? Fully dressed? 

You think of him half bare and lounging, hair slipping over his shoulders, and the scent of sandalwood and fig. Tonka or something woodsy, maybe. You know it well and it lingers long after he leaves you. 

You suddenly miss it, crave it. 

Him. 

You twist beneath your sheets. 

Why did he have to–

You make a soft noise of frustration, turning over again. 

You’re restless. 

Something beneath your skin begins to itch and squirm. 

Previously, Suguru had hardly mentioned your status as an Omega. He rarely acknowledged it; you were too brilliant of a sorcerer for him to care, you thought. You were too powerful. The only instance he brought it up was to scent you, a form of caution in a particular instance, for a particular mission. The memory still simmers in your mind, the way he’d rubbed the gland on your wrist with a careful thumb. He’d given you clothes of his to wear. He’d had you sit in his quarters for long hours, until it seemed as if you were his, in some way. 

But now that he’s actually brought it up, offered you his bite, to be his, it paints him in an entirely different light. 

Had he always…wanted you? 

Was he always planning this? 

The naive, desperate parts of you want to believe this is a recent thought of his. Previous to this, he only ever saw you as another sorcerer, a powerful one that aided him. You had always been one of the closer ones to him, at his heel, his beck and call. 

You’d be lying if you said you’d never thought of Suguru this way; as an Alpha. An unmated one, who kept your company. 

And he does, no matter how badly it burns to admit it, protect you.

You know he wards off Alphas. 

You know he perhaps does more than even that. 

But you don’t want—

You don’t want to be mated. 

You don’t want to suddenly be coddled by him, held back, don’t want to be the little thing that keeps his bed warm.

Your face heats with the thought. 

Images flash through your mind, flickering, melting together like film that bleeds and runs, of him overtop you. Shrouding you. His hair on your shoulders and back. You think of his mouth on your throat, teeth in your neck. 

You rub at your eyes suddenly as if to clear them.

You know he leaves on a mission for a week in two days. 

You assume, at some point, he’ll speak to you. And break this strange silence. 

You’ll both return to normal then.

And then perhaps you won’t lose any more sleep over him.

***

Suguru never says goodbye to you. 

It shouldn’t bother you as much as it does—you just figured he’d finally drop this silly little silence game.

You suppose he must’ve thought the same of you.

Besides, what were you expecting from him? An apology? It’s foolish to even entertain. You knew you weren’t going to apologize either. The least you’ll do, when he returns, is  act as if all is normal again. Perhaps it’s better that way, not to address what he’s put in his head recently. 

The more you speak of it, or think of it, the worse it unravels in your mind. 

On the second day that he is gone, you realize you miss his scent. 

You realize it has become such a staple in your everyday life that its sudden disappearance  is almost alarming. It makes you more irritable, more vicious. You snap at the others faster, bite out insults and brutalities. 

You—

Well, you miss it. 

Him, maybe. 

The admittance is a hard one to swallow around. It burns going down. 

On the third day, you’re genuinely craving his scent in a way that makes your teeth ache. You had no idea you could even miss a scent like this, need it so bad that your body would betray you with a physical pain in your chest. Somewhere in your mouth, under your tongue. 

You try to ignore it. 

You go on with your life. 

But by the fifth day, you are agitated and aggressive. Everyone knows something is wrong with you. You know something is wrong with you. You can feel it beneath your skin, crawling, squirming. It makes you want to tear out your hair, rip at your nails, or sink your teeth into something. You’re restless.

You can’t sleep. 

You can hardly eat or think. 

And as you lay awake in your bed, kicking at sheets, sweating and twisting, you know what it is you need. 

You’ve known the whole week. 

You throw back the covers and wrench open your bedside drawer. 

The key rattles, hot, like it knows it’s finally about to be used. It’s musical sound a siren song, it’s been burning away in there the whole week. 

You swipe it and turn sharply from your bedroom. From your own apartment. 

It’s the middle of the night; not a soul sees you in the compound. 

Like a person possessed, you walk. Your back is straight. Your steps are quick. Your mind is set, on fire.

Suguru’s door has haunted you the whole week.

The key in your hand digs into the flesh, carving it’s divots there like your hand might be the lock itself. 

You try not to think about it–you unlock the door. You throw it open. 

You shut it behind you, slide the lock back into place. 

Darkness greets you.

You wander in like you know the place (you do, you do–)

You wander in like it’s yours to wander in. 

Instantly, something loosens inside of you. 

You exhale hard. 

Inhale sharp. 

The smell of him, fainter because he’s been gone, assaults your senses, sweeps over them. You take in a lungful like gasping for air, you smell faint traces of fig and sandalwood. Notes of tonka that you long for, that urge you to move deeper into his space. 

In the dark, you make your way down the hall, towards his bedroom.

You haunt the arch for a moment.

Guilt or regret or embarrassment almost seize you. They make you pause. 

Some sane part of you is clawing at your insides, wailing to turn around and leave. Leave now. 

But he gave you a key.

He gave you a key, you think in circles, again and again. He gave me a key. 

You cross the threshold.

You sink down into his bed and his scent is strongest here, even still, after several days it’s his. 

You turn over the covers to get beneath them, cool sheets against your legs, sliding and smooth. You turn your face into his pillow and inhale. 

A soft little groan works it’s way out of you.

Instantly, your muscles slacken. 

Everything leeches from you; your anger and irritation and restlessness. 

It soothes you so deeply and so swiftly it makes your head spin. 

You curl beneath his blankets and take deep pulls of breath, squirming a moment if only to bring his scent tighter around you. You envelope yourself in it.You shroud yourself in it. 

And finally, after five days of restless nights, you fall asleep almost instantly. 

Not a single dream. Not one moment where you wake or stir. 

You sleep deeply. 

In the morning, the sun warms you through the broad windows like a content cat. 

You stretch lazily like one, too.

Suguru will be home tomorrow. 

You know you need to leave his bed, hope that your scent dissipates by the time he returns. 

You didn’t do anything wrong, you know—he gave you a key. 

He gave you a key. 

But rather, you know he would never let you live it down. He would use it instantly, as ammunition for his argument, the debate that the two of you keep circling.

You don’t quite leave as quickly as you should still, though: 

You linger.

You’re comfortable.

Calmed for the first time all week.

And when you do slip out, it’s silently, locking the door behind you.

Like maybe you won’t ever let yourself back in there, trying to shut it like it was a one time indulgence and gone now from your mind and body. 

But his scent clings to you. 

And little do you know, your scent clings to his sheets—and to Suguru, it’s sweet as can be and unmistakable—irreplaceable.

He collapses in his own bed when he returns and knows you’ve been all over it. He can smell the crush of dark berries, jasmine, the soothing note of vanilla that clings to you, that he’s come to adore. 

He grins to himself and knows then, he’s got you right where he wants you.

***

For a moment, you think Suguru is going to make you be the bigger person and apologize upon his return. 

Instead, he finds you. 

And he doesn’t say he’s sorry for his recent behavior, but he does say;

“I’d prefer if you didn’t avoid me in the future.”

It feels like sorry enough. 

And for some time, things return to a state of normal.

A version of it.

It isn’t quite like it was before—in fact, you seem to spend more time around him than previously. He calls on you more. He brings you into his space more frequently, often urging you to eat with him, beside him, at his table.

This is ideal for you. Close but not too close.

Although, he begins to ask, don’t you have your key? Can’t you let yourself in? 

You say you haven’t used it.

He hums like he knows differently, but doesn’t press you.

Until finally he asks you to retrieve a notebook in his study and bring it to him.

Fetch, he says.

���It’s locked, isn’t it?”

“You have your key.” He answers simply, not looking up from the book he is reading. 

For a moment, you almost protest, but something stops you. Maybe the twitch in his brow.

It’s a useless argument to pick, anyways.

You do have a key.

It would be fastest, easiest, to just use it.

So you do. 

And you hand him the notebook he asked for, fingers brushing against his as he takes it from you with gentle hands.

“Thank you,” he adds, voice so smooth and low, almost tempting.

You swallow a little.

Then you quickly avert your gaze. 

“Whatever,” you grouse, but he smiles fondly, amused.

And it opens another door, more than just the one to his suite.

***

Tentatively, you begin to come and go.

The first (second)  time you use your key to enter without his order, he is careful not to react to you any differently than how he usually does. 

His eyes brighten a little, though, like a leopard that’s caught something interesting in its sights and is waiting to see what it’ll do. 

Still, you grow more comfortable entering his space on your own. 

You claim portions of it; a corner of the couch. A particular cushion around his low table. All of the sunny patches in his suite become yours, scented with you, indented with you. More than that, some horrible, hidden part of you adores that your scent is all over his space. 

It’s comforting to find it beside his scent. 

It soothes a part of you that you don’t wish to admit to. 

His hands grow bolder. 

Now they’re always hovering at the small of your back, the nape of your neck. He tucks strands of your hair away from your face and though you jerk away from him, it’s often half-hearted. You snip at him and he only smiles.

Pleased. Smug. Knowing. 

His hands guide you as you walk beside him.

You grow accustomed to his touch in some way—he makes sure of it.

Then, as if to prove something—

Another cult member begins to cause trouble with you; he is another Omega. He begins with snide comments and remarks that test your patience. He doesn’t stop until you are growling and bristled and ready for a fight. 

And all it takes to stop you is Suguru’s large hand coming down on the nape of your neck. 

His thumb rests atop one scent gland at your throat, fingertips pressing delicately into the one on the other side. Hand wrapped around the back of your neck.

“Easy,” he murmurs and just like that, you can feel some of your aggression slip from you, deflate like a balloon.

It’s involuntary, the energy and anger unspooling from your body in an instant. In the back of your mind, you’re alarmed; how easily it was for him to effect you. It’s terrifying.

You swat his hand away, lurching from him, another little growl in your throat.

But you don’t fight him or the look in his eyes, the way he tilts his chin up in the barest hint of dominance. 

You storm off.

Instances as such continue to happen, though, where he’s able to sooth or quell your temperament with a touch. A word. A look. 

It comes to a head while you’re eating dinner with him. 

“You’re so wound up,” Suguru comments lightly, “your scent is so sharp with it. What’s bothering you?” 

Reflexively, you snap, “you are.” 

And it’s meant to be some sort of insult but Suguru’s lips twist into this hitched little smile. “It’s my fault you’re wound up?” He asks lightly. 

“Don’t twist my words.” You respond, fixing him with a glare, “you bother me.” 

He’s still deeply amused by this, you can tell by the twinkle in his eyes. The smug way he holds himself. 

“Would you like me to help you?” He asks. 

“No,” you say reflexively. 

A beat of silence before he says, “come here. I’ll help you.” 

There’s a command in his voice, laced there, and doing something strange to your head. 

You hesitate.

He pounces, “just a massage.” He soothes, “I can tell your shoulders are knotted up and tense. I can see it.”

His voice has dropped into that soothing lull.

Warily, “away from my glands?” 

He smiles, “of course.” And then, “come here.”

Your body moves easily now and he murmurs, “sit in front of me. Back to me—there, that’s it.” 

It feels more vulnerable than it should to show your back to him, to sit in front of him like a child to their mother. You try to keep your posture straight and careful. 

But then he sets large, warm hands to your shoulders. His fingers dig into the meat of them gently, pressing into your muscles which spasm and twitch in pain. You yelp, jerking away. 

Suguru tsks, “see how tense you are? You’re in pain.” He scolds softly and you feel heat smart across your face, “sit still for me. I’ll be gentler.”

True to his word, he eases up, fingers careful as they run into your tense muscles.

He finds bundles of twisted up tension in your back and shoulders, pressing into them until a noise springs from you—a groan, a whimper, a little growl. He works the sounds out of you. You swear he’s doing it deliberately and you wouldn’t be surprised if it was all just to humiliate you a little. 

But you finally loosen and slacken for him. 

When you finally sink into his hands, he murmurs, “I don’t know why you fight this so badly.”

You let go of a heavy sigh, “you do know why. Don’t play dumb, it doesn’t suit you.” 

“Because you’re stubborn?” Suguru asks lightly and you snort, despite yourself, “because you don’t know what’s good for you?”

“You’re no good for me.” You respond.

Suguru’s turn to sigh and if he digs his fingers in to make you yip in pain, he’d never say it was purposeful. 

“You’ve got it all wrong,” he murmurs, “but what am I to expect from a stray like you? You’ve lived off scraps and abuse your whole life; of course you don’t know what to do now that I’ve given you food and shelter.” Suguru’s fingers ease up towards your neck as he continues, “a warm bed to lie in. Toys to play with. A collar—so you’ll never be lost again. No one’s ever given you this before, hm?”

Reflexively, you jerk away from his touch, you turn to look at him over your shoulder with a sneer. 

“I’m not a pet.” 

Suguru does not heed your warning and instead gently pulls you back towards him by your waist. 

“No?” He asks lightly, fingers resuming their steady massage. You go completely still like prey, unsure, wary. Angry. Humiliated. “It’s not a bad thing to be a pet. You’re thinking about it all wrong.” 

His fingers ease up towards your neck and you stiffen again. 

“Suguru,” you say in warning as he nears your scent glands. Perhaps to what he’s said.

“You’re my pet now,” he continues, “though you don’t like to admit it. It’s not so bad, is it?” 

Stubbornly, you don’t answer him.

But after a moment, you say, “if I’m already yours, why do you need this last bit of me? If you already see me as your pet, why do you want me so terribly, in this way—“

Suguru suddenly pulls you back deeper, into his lap, against his chest. 

You squirm, but he holds you tight, hooks his chin over your shoulder.

Alarm bells ring frantically in your head now that he’s so close to the glands in your throat. 

“Don’t play dumb,” Suguru muses, half-mocking, “it doesn’t suit you.” 

“Let me go,” you snarl low and hot.

“What are you scared of?” Suguru responds, “that I’d trap you? If you’d take my Bite, I’d let you roam further than I do now. You’d be safe.” 

“Liar,” you hiss, “I’m not dumb.” 

“I’m not trying to stifle you, I’m trying to set you free.” Suguru almost purrs and his voice is warm and low and creeping up over your spine and trying to find its way inside you. 

You begin to squirm this time, thrashing in his hold until you manage to wriggle free, falling forward onto your hands and knees. 

Instinctively, you turn to keep your back protected, scrambling away from him. You bare your teeth at him. 

“I don’t believe you.” 

He watches this show of aggression with amusement, tilting his head slightly. And then he sighs, “I don’t think anything I say will convince you at this point.” 

You narrow your eyes at the tone. Your hackles rise. 

In an instant, he has grabbed you by the ankle and pulled you back to him. 

Underneath him.

You shove hard at him, twisting and fighting as he settles himself over you. 

You realize how solid he is, how strong, and large. He doesn’t budge. He doesn’t even flinch. 

“Suguru,” you hiss at him, pushing as hard as you can on his chest.

“See how easy it was for me to subdue you?” He says then, voice smooth and low. “If I wanted to take you, I simply would’ve already. You’re no challenge to me; if I wanted to trap you, I would’ve.”

“Get off me!” 

You thrash hard beneath him and in an instant, he has your hands uselessly pinned above your head, stretching you out beneath him.

His nose dips, near the scent gland at your throat. You squirm.

He squeezes your wrists, “stop squirming.” He murmurs low, “or my instinct will be to bite.”

Your stomach does a horrible flip, a flutter of—fear, excitement. 

“Just—get off—leave me alone!” You get out, voice high and tight. You try not to arch away from the way he lets his face fall to the crook of your neck. 

“Hush,” Suguru hisses, nudging his nose beneath your ear.

He’s scenting you. 

He’s done this before and despite everything in you, you finally go slack. You force yourself not to tilt your head or offer up more, rather let him urge you into the way that he prefers. 

He nudges his cheek and nose against your jaw. He lets out a relieved breath, fitting more of his body to you and you feel the push of chest into yours, his hips.

You squirm a little and a growl erupts from his throat.

You fight back the sound that almost works its way out of you now, swallow around it.

When he’s finished, he asks, “would you like to scent me?” And instinctively, you want to say yes, but you temper yourself. Then he adds, “I’m sending you away on a mission alone. I’ll be scenting you until the day you leave now.” 

You catch his eyes, glinting.

“So, I thought it only fair if you’d like to scent me, too.” 

You don’t know why, but something squirms inside of you, something a little hurt. 

“You’re sending me away?”

Suguru hums softly, “I need you to take care of something for me. I only trust you to do it.” 

You flex your hands a little in his hold, but he doesn’t budge. 

He nudges at your jaw again, gentle, and murmurs, “this would be easier if you’d take my mark.” 

You turn your head then to shield your throat, and face him. His nose nearly brushes yours and you look up at him through your lashes. You bite your tongue from any further complaints, dipping down to the crux of his throat now. 

Easily, perhaps eagerly, he bares his throat for you.

Satisfaction erupts beneath your skin as his scent washes over you, dark fig and oud, sandalwood and musk. Carefully, your nose runs along the column of his throat. 

“I’m not even—“ you huff, retry, “I haven’t had a Heat in—it wouldn’t take, anyways.” 

“Ah,” Suguru says and you wish you hadn’t told him at all. Realization dawns over his features the way a cat might realize it’s caught its mouse beneath its paws. “Is this what you’re so scared of?” 

“No—I prefer it this way. It’s another reason that you can’t. It wouldn’t work.” You say stubbornly and perhaps in your irritation, you burrow further down into the crook of his neck, tuck your cheek to his skin to nudge. 

“I could give you a temporary one,” he murmurs, “I’d let you do the same in return, of course.” 

You go quiet, brushing your lips against his skin, hesitating. 

“I don’t need it.” You finally decide, even as you let the blunt side of a tooth nick gently against his neck. “I can protect myself.” You pull away to look at him again, “am I not one of your strongest?” 

“You are my strongest.” He agrees, he praises. “But am I not also strong?” He asks, “and yet you still insist on protecting me.” 

You open your mouth to protest, but he takes your chin in hand suddenly, words dying before they can escape. 

“You are my strongest.” He says, “I would like the world to be aware of it.” 

“I told you, I don’t want to be yours–” 

“Then stop protecting me. Flee. Run away and never return.” Suddenly, his touch, his body, all of him is gone. He rolls off of you and onto his back beside you. Cold air sweeps in. You can feel his touch like burning imprints on your skin. 

You turn your head to the side to look at him. 

“You would hunt me down if I ran.” 

A flicker of a smile ghosts his face. 

“And if I ran from you?” He asks, “if I discarded you?” 

Something twists so viciously and sharply in your chest that your eyes sting with it. You lock your jaw tight. You stare up at the ceiling. 

“You refuse to speak but your scent is spiced with distress, sour with despair.” He turns to look at you, “not so easy to hear, is it?” 

“I can’t stand you or your games.” You get out. 

“There are no games.” He says evenly, “only the one you’re playing with yourself.” 

You scoff, “which is?” 

He sits up slightly, over you, looking down at you, the inky silk of his dark hair sliding over one shoulder. 

“Seeing how long you can outrun what you want.” 

You exhale roughly, in exasperation, and then you ask dryly, “and what do I want, Suguru?” 

“To be taken care of.” 

“I don’t need–”

He cuts off your growl before it can start, taking your chin in hand to turn your head towards him once more. “You never have, but it doesn’t mean you can’t want it.” 

“I don’t want it either.” You snap. “You have some grand delusion of me in your mind that I am some weak, submissive creature in need of your care.” 

“I’ve said none of that, have I?” He hums. “Now you’re twisting my words, being purposefully churlish–in hopes of, what? To scare me off?” 

His palm opens up against your jaw, your cheek. His thumb touches your bottom lip. 

“You snap and you snarl and posture as some ferocious, independent creature to scare everyone off. I don’t blame you���I am certain you protected yourself many times this way from lesser people.” His voice is soft, almost a lull, you allow his palm to open against your lips, to turn your face into the cup of his hands. “You don’t believe anyone can handle you and you hope if you bite hard enough, tear into them, they’ll run off. And then you’ll feel vindicated; you were right, you are too much to handle. You were right, you are a monster. You’re unworthy of care or companionship or protection.” 

His hand moves upward, baring his wrist to your mouth now, “go on,” he encourages, “bite me. As hard as you like. Scream and cry and tear into me. Loathe me and scorn me.” He leans closer, over you, as he hushes like a mother to their child, “I’ll still be here, with the rings of your teeth marks littered in my skin. I’ll be the only one, bruised and bloody, still taking care of you–no matter how badly you fight me.” 

Out of anger or frustration or something else entirely, tears prick your eyes. As if to hide them, you open your mouth against his wrist, gentle first–warm and soft lips and tongue. He looks enraptured. He looks starving. 

You sink your teeth into his skin viciously. 

He hisses in pain, sharp, but doesn’t pull away. “There,” he coos, leaning over you, sinking into the pain, “is that what you wanted?” 

Blood bursts into your mouth in a way that is almost startling, sharp and metallic. It should be gross and horrible and–you whine a little, somewhere in the back of your throat and bear down harder. 

If that’s what he promises, you’ll make him prove it. 

If he wants to be the one beside you, you’ll make him pay. 

He leans down to kiss at your cheeks, gentle, humming. You realize there are tears. Your jaw aches. 

But you don’t let go and he doesn’t even flinch. 

“Does that feel better? To get your teeth into someone who isn’t scared of you?” He murmurs, nudging at your tense jaw, kissing there. “Shall I do the same to you?” 

You release his wrist and shove him off, hard enough that he gives and he goes. 

You stand up and storm out of his chambers, slamming the door on its hinges as hard as you can. You hope it knocks over every painting on his walls. You hope the entire compound somehow hears it. You hope it breaks something in the same way that something has been broken open inside of you.

You wipe his blood from your mouth with the back of your hand.

Suguru doesn’t even bandage the wound. And he wears his sleeves high, so that all the world might see it.

[kisu-doodles]

Been having intense a/b/o scogean thoughts!

I’m just loving the idea of Logan and Jean both being alphas and Scott being the omega filling in this sandwich. I personally like the idea that unlike usual depictions, omegas in heat become horn filled rage monsters instead of needy and submissive, so Scott needs two alphas to satisfy and even then they are at risk of death by broken pelvis.

Like just logan coming back from a mission and jean’s like oh thank goodness your back I haven’t slept in 2 days 😭😭😭 Logan’s never been with Scott during a heat so he’s like lol how bad can it be and jean’s like famous last words but I need a lie down. The moment Logan enters Scott tackles him like you stupid alpha i missed you so much before yeeting him into the bed and Logan’s like can I take my clothes off first?! While Logan is getting snu-snued out of existence Jean is just passed out on the floor.

Though Scott makes up for it by working overtime when Logan and Jean go into Rut because being in a throuple they’ve synced up and alphas need lots of loving and attention!

[steddieas-shegoes]

pins and needles

for @steddiemicrofic prompt ‘pin’

388 words | rated t | cw: a/b/o dynamics, implied fertility issues, mpreg | tags: omega Steve Harrington, alpha Eddie Munson, established relationship, a rare omegaverse sighting from me what is happening

🫃🫃🫃🫃🫃🫃🫃🫃🫃🫃🫃🫃

Steve glanced at the clock again. The office closed in ten minutes. Maybe he should call.

“You gonna tell me why you’ve been on pins and needles all day?” Eddie asked around a bite of lasagne. Steve had yet to touch his own plate.

“I’m fine.”

Eddie’s eyes squinted back at him suspiciously. “You’ve been acting weird for days now. And you smell different.”

Steve’s breath caught at that.

He thought about the two positive pregnancy tests he took three days ago. He thought about how his smell would be different if he was pregnant.

But then he thought about the two negative tests he’d had that same day. That was what made him get his blood tests done at the doctor the day before.

They promised results by the end of today.

So maybe Steve was just a little bit on edge.

“Do I smell different? Really?” Steve asked.

“A little. Just a hint of some fruity smell? Can’t quite tell what it is, maybe a berry?” Eddie sniffed. “Blueberry?”

Just as Steve was about to admit to taking the tests without his mate, the phone rang. He jumped up and ran to grab it off the hook, barely even saying hello.

“Yes, it’s Steve Munson. Uh huh. Yes.” He could feel Eddie’s eyes on him from the table. And then the doctor gave him the best news he could’ve heard. “Really? I am?”

Eddie was suddenly behind him, probably sensing the shift in his tone, hearing the tears in his voice.

“Yeah, I can come in next week. Monday at ten sounds good. Thank you so much. Okay. See you then.”

He hung up the phone and turned to Eddie.

“What is it? Are you sick?” Eddie looked pale and his scent shifted to something laced with concern. “We should call Dustin. He has a friend who’s a doctor now.”

“Eds.” Steve grabbed his hands, pulled them to his still-flat but hardened stomach. “Baby.”

“What?” Eddie was still confused.

Steve covered his hands over his stomach and kissed his cheek. “We’re having a baby.”

They’d tried for nearly two years, almost convinced they couldn’t because of the bats in the Upside Down nearly eating them both alive. But now they were. They were gonna be parents.

Eddie looked down at their hands. “Holy shit! Really?”

“Really.”

[venusandsaturnsrings]

despite his mostly metal form, most things remained the same about boothill. his love of whiskey, charming accent, and penchant for causing problems but, more importantly, his alignment.

as long as you’d known him, which was six months at most, boothill had been everything the textbooks said about alphas. strong-willed, a tad arrogant, outgoing, and very much a show off. the latter translated into him being an annoyance more than anything but, alas, he seemed glued to you.

it was the second time this week you’d woken to rocks tapping against your window, boothill grinning widely from the ground; he wanted you to come out. not keen on rousing any roommates, you threw on whatever was on top of your laundry hamper and shuffled outside scowling at him. suave as ever, he gave you a ‘nice outfit, sugar, that designer or what?,’ followed by cackling laughter interrupted when you flicked his forehead. one half-baked apology later, you’re being taken to a super special secret spot he just had to show you at three in the morning.

half an hour and many bottles shot off of ledges later, he’s lead you through a complex series of markers to the edge of a small grove. bathed in the trim of moonlight and beginnings of sunlight, you have to admit the sparkling waterfall and unique flora is probably the most charming place he’s dragged you to. with a faux annoyed huff, you turn to give him thanks through gritted teeth only to find the cyborg cowboy has perched himself on a boulder to look at you like a lovesick puppy; it throws you for a loop. despite all the inflated chattering and chest puffing he does, sometimes you forget he really has a thing for you until he’s silently gazing at you without a word, waiting to hear you. ‘fuck that,’ you decide and claw your way up the boulder to lean against his shoulder. you don’t miss the way boothills smile widens and he practically purrs at your touch, but he doesn’t say a word, too nervous to ruin what’s happening.

it’s another six months later when you find yourself back at the grove a second time, your relationship having finally blossomed into something more than tapping at the edges of hostility (you were the only annoyed one but he’ll let you have your fantasies). hands intertwined, one metal and one flesh, he carries the bag of treats and a blanket in his other; he proclaimed his partner should never have to lift a finger. something something cowboys honour.

it was three in the morning as it had been before and you were tangled limbs next to the pond. his lips made a path from your jaw to sternum, slightly chapped but fully loving; part-time soulmates, full-time vulgar. boothill let his fingers climb up your thighs and down your sides until you were fully bare before him, bathed in the trim of moonlight and the edges of sunlight, prettier than the stars. pheromones coating the surroundings, he let himself indulge in your flavour, pulling the strings of pleasure so you sing oh so sweet for him. in a haze of his signature scent, musky whiskey and spice, you let him have his way.

[koipudding]

omega kaiser x alpha reader snippet.

cw: yan(?) kaiser, pierced kaiser, omegaverse, he's aged up (20's), implied sex, he's in heat but lucid enough, making out (biting to make you bleed). financial dependence...

a/n: I will now solely write him with piercings. its doing something to me.

wc: 683.

Kaiser had never received comfort during a heat. All he knows is to suppress whatever ails him, and hide under some clothes that he stole from alphas or betas in the street to soothe the ache in his glands. It’s sufficient; he’s never had anything else, and didn’t know what else to expect. 

When you don’t think you’ll reach adulthood, there’s no point in indulging in the little comforts of life. Any comfort will eventually be wasted on a speck of a lifespan, but he’s finally entered his early 20’s, still feeling like the trash he was born to. The one that the world has told him he was. What no one who expects to reach adulthood anticipates is being loved; he didn’t think someone would call his name so sweetly, just to usher him back into his own nest.

Like the rose on his neck, you continue to defy everything he expected; you’re not a “traditional” alpha mate in a traditional alpha/omega pairing; you’ve been nothing but patient; more omega in nature than he ever was. 

“Mihya.” Your voice is raspy from lack of sleep; something he wished he could fix with the wealth he has amassed, but you always tell him how that’s unfair—his money was earned through the suffering and training he endured—it would be wrong of you to take it (but he sees how tired you are. How you can barely stand or even eat at the end of the day. He’s so close to forcing you to stay home). 

“Go back to bed. It’s too early, there’s no reason to be up.” He pulls you back down, his legs (bare, sticky with sweat and your combined fluids) entangled with your own. Kaiser leans back down, his tongue laving over your neck; red and blotched with purple from his many bites. 

Your hand makes its way into his hair, combing through the knots and tangles that settled from days spent in bed. Theres nothing to be said; nothing he can’t see in your eyes or smell in the way you sweeten and warm under his care. You’ve been more rested tending to his heat than in the weeks of vacation the two of you spend together before the football season starts (Kaiser sees how you enjoy taking care of him, rather of the other way around. It’s odd, especially for an alpha to want to be the main caretaker, but he doesn’t argue. It's nice to be coddled).

“Mihya.” You whisper his name one more time. Michael’s head falls onto your shoulder, pulling you into his firm chest. 

He hums against you, before scraping his teeth against your neck again. Calloused hands turn you onto your back, and blond hair falls onto your skin. 

“Hey.” You quirk a brow but pat his arm.

“Hi.” the lingering scent of a heat rolls off of him, grounding the both of you. 

“Yknow, you’re so sweet on me—on everyone—someone’s gonna eat you up.” He bares his teeth and grins at your confused, fearful (and mildly aroused) expression. 

You sputter before he cuts you off with a sweet peck. 

“Maybe I should take a bite before they get a chance to look at you,” Kaiser rolls his hips against yours, “would that be okay?” 

It’s not a question; ever. Kaiser only makes promises before taking, a dynamic that has suited you (there’s not much to disagree with. He does so much for you already right? Doesn’t your dear mate pay for everything, offer you housing and lets you keep your own money for sweet treats? It’s all so you’re reliant, bent to his will through guilt. But the way you gaze at him like he could be your savior is enough to break him). You nod and bring him down to met your lips. It’s slow, until he sinks his teeth into your lip, peeling your lips apart and prodding at your tongue with the small, but smooth metal ball of his piercings. He breaks some skin, your lips bleed as he professes his love to you. 

a/n: I HATE HIM I HATE HIM. I am kissing him and wishing him goodnight.

[bearllydruid]

Halsin had taken a few moments to gather some supplies into his pack. He didn't think that staying at camp would be a good idea, but he could feel the tension and the nagging in his brain. His rut had always had a particularly ruthless schedule, interrupting the druid's needs and setting aside any of his own ideas for the sake of the one driving instinct to settle with his mate.

Which on its own isn't a problem. Halsin would love some downtime, time to focus on the bond with his beloved and take time to properly breed them until there is no question in anyone's mind. However, Halsin does not actually know if they'd want it. His affection has been shared over the campfires, their friends all around, they haven't even done much more than a few quick, delightful kisses.

He bit back a low growl as the feeling ratcheted up higher, climbing his spine and creating tension in the broad expanse of his body. He would assume it was something related to the shackles they had freed in his recovery of Thaniel and then finding Oliver. Defeating Ketheric had been the final piece, and the army of the Absolute had taken to matching, but he needed a few days. Whatever ties he still held to the lands themselves had responded just as strongly as the wave of healing magic had broken across Reithwin. His body had begun to wake up as well, long dormant instincts rising swiftly. "I'll...I'll catch up to you." Halsin promised, his eyes fully gold at that point.

[liberationwasboundtohappen]

Nnnngh, I wish there was more Omegaverse Rival out there. You can do so many interesting things with them! OmegaxOmega: Yuugi and Kaiba are two Omegas who fight against stereotyping and the expectation to have children and find rivalry and support in one another. The only Alpha either of them ever loved is gone now, and they're fine with having their own lavish nest with creature comforts and taking the world by storm as the OmegaxOmega power couple. BetaxAlpha: Kaiba is the Alpha on top of the world, but he doesn't want an Omega who will cry and mewl for him. He doesn't want to give in to social expectations, and he definitely doesn't want to just get mated because he's expected to. The only person who actually makes him happy is a Beta because of the things they do for each other *beyond* biological imperatives. AlphaxOmega: Yuugi and Kaiba are fated mates that fight their urges because *they don't want* to just give in and rut against someone else because they happen to smell good. They want to get to know each other and *genuinely bond* because dammit, they're not slaves to their biological functions and they have *shit they want to do*.

[goatgoesmbe]

From my understanding, it’s not a sin if you’re caught up in the moment and you make it up later. Like that one Gaz smut fic you wrote with the anal.

So… alpha!Gaz being late on his suppressants, going into rut, and accidentally mating hijabi!omega!reader. He’d been wanting you from day one and was probably already in the works of courting you, so, really, this just sort of sped up the process and he didn’t even sin… even if he did, I don’t think he’d care much, he could make it up later.

This would be 10x funnier if hijabi!omega!reader is related to Price or something

He would definitely be the kind of man to stick flowers and other pretty things in your hair/hijab

Ok, you so big brain for inserting muslim!gaz to omegaverse AU

Because it would be sooooooo intriguing to write, because well- the ruling would not be applied to omega in peak of heat/alpha in peak of rut- since to.. sin and just practice the religion in general, you have to have full conscience

Since the hormones(?) gonna affect decision making part of brain(?), so yepp that won't be a sin, i'd even go as far as saying that wouldn't count as proper mating :( maybe yes in omegaverse biology(????) but in the religion itself? You both have to do it again when having a clear mind after heat/rut be done with 👁️👁️

AND DAD!PRICE YES- (i lowkey wanna hc him being muslim too- just coz beard 🧍🧍🧍also coz i love him ofc-)

Gaz decorating hijab!!! Yessssss 👹👹👹👹 id give him some other place to stick flowers into.

He'd buy you one of those pretty flower pins and the long earrings(?), some kind of accessories for hijab

[citrusbuds]

chat. i must know. what is the point of f/m omegaverse?

SERIOUS DISCUSSION!! for me, the entire appeal of the omegaverse is mpreg. when applied to f/m relationships, is that not just regular pregnancy?? or am i wrong?

obviously straight people exist and queer people can be in straight passing relationships, but what makes those different to a/b/o ones? (in a fictional sense) this has been on my mind for a good few months, i will not lie.

being a gay man, the entire point of a/b/o to me is the maternal, pregnancy, child bearing aspect in a m/m relationship; something that isnt very common especially since trans men are often forgotten in the topic.

obviously mpreg isnt the ONLY point of the omegaverse. but are the non mpreg parts of it the only reason for f/m omegaverse? (wont go into the other apsects, im sure you guys know them already.) is the heat cycle stuff the main appeal, then?

geinuinely curious!!! would love to understand it better

[rush-the-stars]

the beginning and end (and what binds them together) - masterlist

✦—⋆𓆩✧𓆪⋆—✦

18+ minors dni

pairing: vashwood x afab!reader

cw: omegaverse au, beta!vash that can switch sexes, alpha!wolfwood, omega!reader pretending to be an alpha, reader referred to as "kid" and "kit", smut, hurt/comfort

✦—⋆𓆩✧𓆪⋆—✦

part i: gone, gone

part ii: locked out

part iii: heat

part iv: tender

part v: break

part vi: mosaic (upcoming)

✦—⋆𓆩✧𓆪⋆—✦

[thewretched1999]

omegaverse is so so so absurd. but lol sitting here imagining alpha!Reader getting omega!Leon pregnant. lololol.

You didn't mean to knot him... It just happened. And at the time you thought you’d get off scott free since he wasn’t exactly complaining when you did.

Wrong. You didn’t think it'd be like, a big deal to him, but now he's bitching about being pregnant and then it all stops when he realizes he's getting a whole three months off, maybe more.

and then he's just all game for it.

leon, unironically. after he realizes.

[bearlydruid]

// A server I'm in talking about all the ways that Astarion would *hate* being pregnant got me thinking about how **ANNOYING** Halsin would be as a doting mate. Like. Over the top annoying. He'd be so protective, and it would be this instinctive drive to feed / tend to / defend his mate. and then I am so sorry, his babies would be big too. God speed fam.

[antongf]

warnings ⊹ omegaverse, a/b/o, omega!wonbin, heat cycles, alpha as a petname (reader is human), fingering, pegging, sex toys, knotting, knotted dildos

notes ⊹ this is a bit rushed. i hope omega!wonbin in heat plagues everyone’s minds like it has mine.

walking into your apartment after a long day at work, having left your boyfriend alone, you immediately hear shuffling and muffled whines. you recognized those whines instantly - wonbin’s whines.

they weren’t pained whines, and you trusted him enough to know he was solo, so you had nothing to worry about. you were going to leave him be. that was until you heard him weakly whine out “alpha.”

before you could register anything else, your feet were carrying you to your room. you stood in the doorway, having quietly cracked the door open to peek in, in awe at the sight in front of you. wonbin was on his stomach, hips raised just enough to see his fingers deep inside his hole. the dim light filtering through your curtained window landed perfectly on his body to see his sticky slick coating his skin.

“alpha, alpha, alpha.” he moans as he shoves his fingers as deep as they could go, trying to fill himself as much as he carnally desires. he lets out a frustrated whine. his fingers just aren’t good enough, he thinks.

you couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh. wonbin halts his movements. “you need a little help? does omega need alpha’s help getting off?”

he pulls his fingers out of himself, arching his back and whining at the loss. he presented himself so prettily to you.

“you poor thing,” you cooed. “give me a second. can you wait that long, omega?” wonbin whines again, but you pay him no mind. you make your way to the closet, reaching for the box you keep hidden in the corner. the box where you kept a toy for special occasions.

“alpha, please.” he begins to sound even more pathetic than he had before. “need it. need your knot, alpha. please.”

[txjis]

Art inspired by House of Alphas by @sadistic-kiss

chapter 26-27 have been living RENT FUCKING FREE in my mind since i read it.

references were used when sketching.

rough draft:

TW: BLOOD / WHIPPING

finished piece: